Photo Credit: Dexter Duran
A frustration exist. We are either the frustrated or the frustration itself. For The Spirals this isn’t black and white but a moral choice. To be one or the other is not a waving flag of good or bad. To be frustrated is human, to be a frustration to the powers that be (or at least those that claim as) is divine.
“This Is Not The Spoliarium” is a love song. A love of a nation unrequited. A love of a future unsure. A longing for justice, betrayed. No greater schism than the morality of a people divided. The Spirals have an urgency to them, as if every song was the coup de grace to an evil right below our noses. With swift musicality and rallying cries, they perform like a car crash (a beautiful view) in tuxedos. A premeditated aggression, an organized chaos.
A band can only do so much, The Spirals pulverize that musical limitation and put words into praxis, praxis into fuel, fuel into combustion. Despite the intensity in the performances and the delivery of the mandate-like lyrics, a fragility seems to float its way to the top.
Is it their frustrations finding a juxtaposed outlet? Or a byproduct of the frustrated permitted to be? A final collapse?
All I know for sure is that to create is human, to be the judge and jury is a crime.